


gooey

by lyssy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssy/pseuds/lyssy
Summary: If Lance only knew the extent of Keith's longing for him. In that moment, he cursed himself for being too stubborn to admit he wasn't sharp enough to express in words how exactly he felt about Lance.'I love you'was just too easy of a confession. So Keith decided to talk with his body instead.





	gooey

Keith had always liked Lance in a way he didn't have to think about. It'd been as easy as breathing. He had perfect skin and ocean eyes and soft lips that were made to be kissed until weary. Physically, there was everything about him to admire, to cherish. But that would be underestimating everything admirable about him. His physical beauty was merely the tip of the iceberg.

He liked Lance, but so did everybody. Lance was a people person, he was a social butterfly, and he was a reliable liaison. Keith loved that, and the universe did, too, apparently. Even when the guy babbled like he breathed, or obsessed over the most material things, or squeaked neurotically when in peril. Even when it'd always been Keith's first instinct to scoff at him, it'd been second to smile.

And so, they'd eventually ended up dating, against all odds and to no one's surprise.

But someone so unaccustomed to love, like Keith, still had a lot of learning to do.

On his latest excursion with the Blade of Marmora, he'd joined in a debriefing of an abandoned Galran ship, occupied by inoperative sentries. It was the exact opposite of a mission they were typically called for. Those usually ended with a soldier or two lost in the end; sacrifices that would be acknowledged as disposable within the next varga. Knowledge or death. That was the way, and then you moved on.

The bitter thing was, Keith had traveled with them willingly, knowing they hadn't needed his service. He'd gone to have a purpose, to be necessary to their team.

He'd forgotten his duties were needed elsewhere.

Granted, members of the Blade weren't large on making public appearances, they were still well-known and had even grown quite popular among rebel groups. They'd been given a specific invite to a ball on Osuras Aurelia, a meager planet of mostly winter. They were celebrating their newfound liberation, thanks to Voltron's growing coalition. Naturally, Keith hadn't been surprised when Kolivan had declined his invite, but that hadn't meant his own presence wasn't to be expected. He was still a member of team Voltron, technically. And he was still a certain Paladin's boyfriend.

"You're still coming, right?" Lance had asked the prior week, scrutinizing him via video comms.

"Yeah," Keith nodded, half-mindful of the anticipation in Lance's voice. "Of course."

Lance had been so excited. The only time he'd ever been able to spend with him was through a projection these days, and even those meetings had become shorter and shorter. Ever since Keith began dedicating himself to the Blade's routine, the universe could never be put on hold. But his love life was.

And as much as a live in the moment guy Keith was, even he, looking back, could call himself a jackass for never quite understanding how romance was supposed to work.

As soon as he'd returned to the Blade's headquarters, he'd taken to a shower and dressed himself quickly to fit the occasion of the evening's party.

Or whatever was left of the evening by the time of his arrival.

Even in his new suit, Keith felt underdressed as he was led down the lengthy palace halls by a tuxedoed alien. Soon enough, he was ushered past vast doors and introduced to the ballroom. The social sphere of the gala on Osuras Aurelia was ridiculously lavish and much like the rest of the ivory palace. Enormous gold, feathery ferns spilled over giant decorative pots that sat on thick marbled pillars. Champagne-colored damask paneled the walls, attributing the ballroom with its sleek and bright elegance. The entire room felt much like a dome with it's high ceilings and numerous windows.

Keith lifted his chin in an attempt to look over the crowd of gyrating bodies and pick out the Paladins. To his surprise, there were plenty of aliens from planets even he couldn't recognize. From the coalition, he was sure. In some parts of the ballroom, he saw plenty of wilted young things, danced out and draped over any available inch of furniture. And then, amongst them, a boy he recognized, wearing a slim white suit and a big, willful pout.

"Lance," Keith said, his voice lost under the clamoring music of the orchestra. He pushed between a throng of dancing couples, an attempt to get to his own boyfriend. He cupped his hands at his mouth and, as the jazz began to die, called out his name. "LANCE!"

An instrument tooted a deflated noise. The ballroom felt half as quiet as before when Lance stood suddenly, catching Keith's gaze across the crowded floor. His eyebrows pinched together, gaze guileless and confused. Keith felt his chest squeeze fondly.

He opened his mouth to call out his name once again as the emcee of the party stepped to the microphone onstage. "And now, our final song of the night, a piece brought to you by our Aurelian band, the Bright Bon!"

Last song of the night? How the fuck late had Keith made himself?

With a loud whoop, the orchestra launched into a jazzy, heady tune. As it did so, Keith felt his heart sink ever so slowly as he caught the new glare on Lance's face from across the floor. It was clear enough that he wanted to hear none of it. Without so much as a glance of finality, Lance shook his head and disappeared into the sea of revelers, who quickly lost themselves to sway of the dance and the night.

Keith felt like the scum of the earth then—or, in this case, Osuras Aurelia. He slid past a few of the dance's moon-eyed couples, ignoring their annoyed _watch it's_ and appalled _excuse you's._

"Lance!" he shouted.

As the crowd thickened, someone pulled Keith into a chokehold from behind. He whipped around, ready for a fight. Laughing, Hunk put his hands up in surrender. "Easy, buddy, it's just me. Fashionably late, huh? Can you believe it? Voltron's brought the whole galaxy together! Hey, Keith—what are you looking at?"

Keith had turned away from Hunk and was craning his head, searching for some sign of Lance. But he was already gone.

 

***

 

After all the night's guests had retired for the evening, and he'd been escorted to his own room for the night, Keith waited out a few agonizing minutes, just to be sure everyone had fallen asleep. And then he snuck off to find Lance.

Keith gave a rhythm of a knock on the door before letting himself in. When he entered the room, he found Lance in bed. He was laid upright, knees raised, slender brown legs exposed from a fluffy white robe that left little to the imagination. He tapped away on a fluorescent blue tablet, never sparing a glance Keith's way.

He looked so good, Keith thought. Delectable in the bronze wash of the bedroom's mute lighting. He nearly even said it, and he knew Lance wouldn't mind, but he wasn't here to charm the guy. He was mad, Keith knew, but he preferred to play coy, anything to coax Lance into enough frustration for a proper conversation.

"If you're here for what I think you're here for," Lance cut his eyes at Keith. "You better not be."

Oh. Anger made him a mind reader, too.

"You're saying you don't want me in this room?" Keith countered innocently, approaching the bed. He watched Lance bite his underlip, a fraction of surrender.

"Where _is_ your room?" Lance set his tablet on the bedside table. He folded his arms and looked at Keith with a challenging squint.

"Far end of the hall," Keith sat his weight on the bed. His eyes skirted over Lance, who's hair was still damp from shower, messily clinging to the frame of his face in slight curls.

"Bummer," was all Lance said.

"Sure is."

"I guess being away so much isn't so new to you, though, huh?" Lance asked. He wore the same mock innocence Keith had walked in here with.

Keith's face clouded. He shook his head. "I'm sorry I was late."

"You weren't just late," Lance bit out. For a moment, his expression was stormy, but then he blinked it away. "You weren't here. And when you are... I was alone tonight, you know. You should've seen me. Allura even gave me a pity dance," he rubbed his eyes, still nursing the wound. "I spent all night waiting for you. I just wanted to dance with you, Keith. That's all I wanted."

"I'm—"

"And it's not the first time it's happened either," Lance sniffed.

Keith frowned, harped by his own guilt. "I know."

"We can't keep doing this. You can't keep doing this to me. We both made promises."

They had, it was true. But hearing Lance talk like this made Keith cold with fear. And though he was too stubborn to admit he was slow on the uptake, even he knew that his constant absence had hurt Lance. Tonight, especially, had been a testament to that. Being his boyfriend had endowed him with the ability to damage Lance's feelings, and he hadn't even realized he'd taken advantage of that.

Keith inched a hand out to Lance, fingers grazing his bare knee before it pulled itself away. "I'm sorry, Lance," he started, wishing he could translate himself better. "I'm so sorry, I— I guess I forget how...relationships work sometimes."

Lance let out a small scoff and blinked up at the canopy of the bed. "Not me," he murmured. "Being a part of Voltron is always a reminder. Being the Red pilot now is always a reminder. And now, everyone's got their own thing. Everyone has someone to talk to, and I've got... I don't know. I don't really have a thing."

Keith winced. "You've never told me that."

"I didn't think I had to," Lance said tartly. He seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. "I mean, you weren't talking about how things were for you. And whenever I got to be with you, it was just..."

Sex. When their time together as of late had grown minimal, Keith had only wanted to make it last, to indulge himself in getting off with Lance. Give him nights he wouldn't forget, leave behind the trace of his presence as a literal pain in Lance's ass. Keith felt himself flush guiltily, knowing that the thread of their relationship was being held together by comm calls and hasty hookups.

"Dating and trying to save the universe at the same time is hard," Lance finished.

"No," Keith shook his head and scooted closer, sidling up to him. "I'm a really bad multitasker. I'm, um, not trying to make that sound like an excuse."

Lance offered a sad smile. He was quiet a moment. "Yes. You are." He batted his eyes, and Keith noticed then that his lashes were wet, sticky from tears.

It made him sour with himself. That he'd done this to Lance, that he'd been the one to make him cry tonight.

Lance brought his knees closer to his chest and waved vaguely. "And it's so stupid, because when you were with us, we were so great."

And when he said _we,_ Keith wondered if he meant them or the team. His breath caught in his chest, a painful ballooning. He wondered if this was the part where Lance would call it quits then. Say they had to stop going round and round, because whatever Keith had to do with the Blade left him mostly alone. Keith hated everything about it. About what he'd jeopardized by his own idiocy.

The tension in the moment rose so suddenly that it was nearly a slap in the face. Keith let go of a shaking sigh. "Are you saying it'd be better if we weren't together?"

"If anything, that'd be worse," Lance nearly sobbed out, looking as stricken as Keith felt. "That'd— That would _so_ suck! Why would you even say that? Ugh. Nothing could keep from worrying about you, you jerk."

Keith felt himself smile, because Lance was calling him a jerk again, endearingly, and that was very assuring. "You worry about me."

"Yeah," Lance said, sniffling again and wiping misty eyes with the sleeve of his robe. "I can't just un-love you."

He didn't need to say anything more for Keith to understand then. It wasn't that Lance needed a lover, he needed a friend. He needed someone to talk to, to be vulnerable with, to listen. And Keith had needed that, too.

"I know," Keith said. "I thought I was helping the Blade when I started joining them on every mission. Now that I think about it, I think I was really just trying to help myself."

"Why?"

"I just...thought I could put myself to better use."

Lance gave a small laugh at the irony of the answer.

When Keith looked back his way again, he was immediately winded by the delicate little smile curving Lance's lips.

"You're probably the most clueless guy in the universe," he said.

Keith couldn't help mirroring the look. "I am," he crawled closer to Lance, hooking a hand around his waist. "Look at me. I'm wearing a tie."

Lance gasped suddenly, a hand cinching at the loose red tie around his neck. His eyes practically sparkled. "Oh, you're wearing the suit I got you!"

"Yeah."

Lance's shoulders fell as he puckered out his underlip in a mock pout. "Boyfriend of the year. You didn't even tie it correctly."

Keith felt his face heat. He rolled his eyes, faintly stern. "I get it. I'm terrible." But he's far more relieved than he'd wish to let on in seeing his boyfriend open up to him again.

Lance wrapped his knuckles on Keith's chest gently. "Buh bum," he ad libbed, perking his brows and looking up. "Is that an echo? A heartbeat?"

Keith furrowed a brow, closed his eyes, because he recognized this joking as Lance's coping. Even if he hadn't been around him enough as of late, he knew exactly how Lance wiggled out of getting too deep in his feelings.

"Lance—"

Lance grabbed Keith's hand, lifting it to his face like a mic. "Wherefore art thou, Romeo? I hear a beat."

"Lance," Keith tried again, impatiently.

"If he only had a heart—"

All preliminaries ignored, Keith surged forward and, in one urgent movement, silenced Lance with a firm kiss. He hardly had time to be modest about it before he was yanked forward suddenly, one hand flying out to brace against the headboard as he fell on top of Lance, bodies pressing painfully together. And just as quickly, the loud thump of Lance's skull smacking the headboard.

With a resound grunt, Lance squeezed his eyes shut and touched his head, panting from the aftermath of the kiss.

Keith righted himself immediately, sitting on the haunches of his ankles. "Are you alright—" The question was cut short when Lance's hips bucked upward, a soft gasp leaving his lips.

The action was so swift, Keith barely had the mind to comprehend how Lance looked beneath him. The sight of him blinking owlishly, flushed and nearly naked beneath himself sent a jolt of pleasure through Keith, an ignition of warmth through his body. The reminder that it was his doing that cashed Lance to melt into this painfully disheveled mess so quickly. Only his.

Exposed, Lance's bare chest rose and fell, cheeks rosy as the glow of his eyes. "Where were you, anyway?" He asked, a breathless quality to his voice.

He really had been anticipating Keith's arrival, hadn't he?

"Nowhere important," Keith said with a shake of his head. He pushed Lance's knees apart, crawling between the open vee of his legs to capture his lips in another kiss.

Lance's body and breath were hot against his own, hands wandering up Keith's chest, cupping the back of his neck. His lips were warm, open, inviting. Lance had turned into such a fantastic kisser—Keith should know, they'd started their practice with each other—when they'd both been clumsy, sloppy, and uncoordinated. It made him realize just how far they'd come along.

"I missed you," Lance whispered, lifting his chin to expose the long column of his neck as Keith laid a trail of warm kisses there. "I missed you so much."

If Lance only knew the extent of Keith's longing for him. In that moment, he cursed himself for being too stubborn to admit he wasn't sharp enough to express in words how exactly he felt about Lance. That he was a large part of his drive, his motivation and reminder that there were things left in the universe worth fighting for.

Keith didn't say anything, untrusting of himself to vocalize his feelings. He rocked against Lance's hips gently, eyes fluttering as sighs pulled from both of them. At his backside, he felt the press of Lance's calves securing tightly at his waist, hips rolling up in search of relief. He knew exactly how Lance liked things, how he loved the hard pressure of Keith forcing his hips down with the weight of his own, grounding him. Inevitably, his questing hand traveled up the length of Lance's thigh, groping at his ass and eliciting a shiver.

"Here?" Lance's voice hitched.

Keith felt his brow pinch. "Lance, you were trying to grind on me just two seconds ago."

"Heat of the moment," Lance said, high and defensive. But the excited grin on his face told another story. "We're guests."

"I guarantee there's launderers coming in and out of here everyday," Keith bargained. Even if it was a little sleazy, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't take advantage of the luxury around them, and if he didn't get to fuck Lance in the midst of it. He curled in towards Lance again, nosing his cheek before meeting his gaze.

After a spell of silence, Lance's eyes narrowed, glinting mischievously. "You've got too many clothes on." A wet, teasing kiss. Swiftly, he grabbed the bottom of Keith's dress shirt and untucked it with the flick of a wrist.

Now they're getting somewhere. Keith sat back up, unbuttoned his dress shirt to Lance's encouragement and discarded the rest of his clothes until he was in nothing but dark briefs. Likewise, Lance wiggled out of his bath robe, tossed it to the floor, and shamelessly raked his gaze over Keith's body as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Keith did a quick once-over of him as well, stopping on the red fabric of Lance's underwear. "Red?" he smirked, delighted to put his hands on Lance's hips, pull at the trim of his shorts. "Lace."

"Coincidence," Lance murmured innocently, looking anything but as he laid back against the pillows.

"I'm sure," Keith laughed, soft and sincere. He curled his fingers into the hem of Lance's underwear, pulling them off in one long, tantalizingly slow go.

Every inch of Lance was on display now, brown skin sporting a deeper tan by grace of the Olkarion sun, as that had become the Castleship's most frequent resting place. His cock was swollen, curved towards his belly, sparking a thrill within Keith and straight to his own dick straining against the confine of his briefs.

"God, look at you," Keith whispered, unsure if he'd ever get used to the sight of a naked Lance.

Lance swallowed hard, bumping his knees together, eyes skirting to the side as the flush in his face never receded. "Yeah, look at me," he said, his coyness coming out meek, which Keith was sure wasn't the intention. He looked as though his heart had just kicked itself into overdrive. But he was flattered, pink to the tips of his ears.

Keith couldn't help but smile. They'd seen every inch of each other by now, and Lance still blushed easy as ever. That, though, was only one thing among the endless list of reasons to adore him, and while Keith would love to sit and marvel, he'd rather put himself into action.

He kissed Lance again, met him halfway and pushed his tongue in his mouth. Lance responded with a mewl of a noise, taking him with eager lips. His chest puffed in slight pants as Keith rubbed a calloused hand on the inside of his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh there.

Lance let out a frustrated little groan, squirming his hips under Keith's pressing weight. "Naa—enough!" he whined against his mouth, pushing at his chest. "Quit the teasing! I want you, alright?" As if to emphasize that, he gave a small bounce on the mattress.

Keith laughed again, eyes half-lidding. "Want me?"

Lance glared, a pout setting on his face. "I said what I said."

"Just making sure," Keith said, pulling himself out of his underwear with a relieved sigh.

_"Yes,"_ he heard Lance hiss, as if it'd been him who just let his dick spring free.

Keith, inelegant on his knees, stripped his shorts all the way off, unwanting of any inch of fabric to get between them. Tonight was their night, and he was going to make sure Lance knew of that—felt that. Already, he was throbbing at the fantasy of them.

"That for me?" Lance asked, kittenishly smirking from where he sat, arms hugged around his legs.

"Mhm," Keith signaled for him to part his thighs, licking his lips. "Lean back."

Lance raised a brow. "Aren't you gonna get—"

"Lean back."

"O-kay!" Lance obliged, looking a tad confused (and concerned).

Keith hooked his arms around Lance's thighs, highly aware of the soft gasp Lance made while doing so.

"You're really hard," Lance said notably, but his eyes flickered up. Keith watched his hands flex at the sheets underneath him.

"Uh, yeah? That's the point," Keith shook his head, quelling a grin. He pushed his hands down the back of Lance's thighs, traveling and palming his ass cheeks. As if to demonstrate, he held them apart and rubbed his hard cock between them.

"Oh!" Lance gave a hiccup of a sound, hips jumping. "Ohh, my. Wow. Keep—Keep doing that."

Keith bit his underlip to stave a grunt, torturously slow in his actions and damn near choking when his own swollen balls rolled against Lance's, all hot and heavy friction.

_"Keith,"_ Lance moaned, petulant and desperate. "Please!"

"Impatient," Keith relented a laugh, as if his breathing was any steadier. "What's the rush?"

It's so good, though. Chasing their arousal by undulating feverishly against one other. _Fuck,_ Keith thought, watching Lance's belly clench.

"Please, I," Lance's breath shuddered out of him, thighs flexing in a way that had them both gasping. "I want it. I want you, I—" Keith arched up, deliberately rubbing their cocks together. "Oh, god! Oh! I'm gonna come, if you keep doing that!"

Keith halted, hips stilling directly over Lance's as he met his wide-eyed gaze with a smug look of his own, like he wasn't torturing himself for the sake of hearing an impatient, needy Lance.

"Let's just see how gracious our Aurelia is," Keith shuffled off the bed promptly, activating the nightstand's drawer to roll out and reveal its contents. The first thing he saw was a familiar bottle of alien lubricant. Bingo. Thank Aurelia. Oddly enough, the cap of the new vial was already popped, as though it'd been used.

Lance, in the meanwhile, grabbed a little pillow that looked purely for decor beside himself and tucked it under his ass, quiet and eager. It was the cutest thing, Keith thought. He couldn't even deny the feeling of butterflies, however foreign it was, building up a heat in the pit of his belly.

Keith returned to the space between his legs, mattress dipping under his weight as he coated his fingers generously with the contents of the bottle. Silently, he recounted how easy it was to find it.

"S'funny," he said, pushing an index against the pucker of Lance's hole, watching him unfold very quickly, mouth falling in a little _'o'._ "Seal of the cap was already broken."

"Mm-nn," was all Lance could offer, eyes fluttering shut from where he remained laid back on the pillows against the headboard. From the position he was in, he was a little folded in on himself.

Must have made it easier for him to watch.

Keith's immediately sidetracked by how grateful he is to be in his presence, tucked snugly between Lance's thighs, his own personal kind of heaven.

With surprisingly little resistance, he pushed the tip of his finger in, sinking slowly to the knuckle. Lance gave a soft, approving sigh, the muscle around Keith's joint twitching. Less and less had sex become a frantic meeting of bodies—or, in their first case scenario, naked wrestling. It'd become slow, soft, and easy, too. It made Keith's heart ache to know Lance had always been waiting for him. And on that thought, his mind wandered back to the lubricant.

He pressed another slick finger in next, watching Lance's stomach jump, head falling back with a mewl. Keith curled his fingers just short of his prostrate, closing his eyes and thinking of a proper approach to his question.

"Lance, were you fingering yourself before I got here?" he asked curiously.

"No," Lance answered indignantly, face blooming red when, deliberately, Keith worked blunt fingers over his prostate, eliciting a loud cry. _"Ah! Yes,_ yes!"

The thought of it. Lance all alone in the bunk of his own room, pumping himself full of his own fingers, quelling the kind of obscene noises he'd had to when it'd been Keith causing them in the middle of the night.

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, insistent on rubbing his fingers over the bundle of nerves and huffing. "Have you done that before?"

Direct stimulation always had Lance leaking profusely. Precome dribbled from the slit of his cock, spilling into a little pool on his belly as he choked out.

"Keith, I-I swear, I... I don't— _ah, ah,"_ Lance gasped, doing a full-body twitch and becoming subvocal as Keith intermittently scissored his fingers and stretched them around his ring. And then, the devil Keith was, went back to pressing and rubbing his prostrate, inserting a third finger.

Keith shifted his knees and dipped his head again, this time resting his cheek on Lance's quivering hip, breath hot over his hardened cock. "I could make you come like this," he said observantly, swiping his tongue lazily over the come puddled on Lance's belly. He tasted so good. And he wasn't bluffing, either. Between the two of them, there was a time when they'd never had dry bedding—Lance could be an orgasm _machine_ when he got going, and Keith had fingered Lance to climaxing before on multiple occasions.

"No," Lance whimpered, bracing his heels against the mattress. "Want you inside me." Regardless, he dug his hand into the pillow behind his head and arced his hips up, fucking himself back on Keith's fingers with a guttural noise.

"We can do both," Keith said, watching Lance in quiet awe. He rubbed himself off against the mattress beneath him, an attempt to put off the swell of his own cock not to be ignored. "I'll make you come and we'll go until you're ready again."

Lance gave an enthusiastic hum before answering. "Then yes, please, make me come."

An irrepressible smile took Keith's mouth at those words. He returned to rubbing insistent circles inside Lance, moving the pads of his fingers over the nerves, mapping the shape of it, the different moans he pulled from Lance depending on how he teased him there. He was so expressive, completely unreserved in his sounds, as if it were only them in this castle. In other words, very much unlike Keith, who'd perfected the art of masturbating in almost complete silence. But he certainly had no worries of anyone within an earshot hearing them having very good sex.

Lance's breath came in faster little puffs then, legs trembling as he attempted to lift himself back on Keith's fingers again.

"Hey, hey," Keith grabbed his waist with his free hand, pressing him back down on the little pillow. "Easy there. Anytime you're ready. C'mon."

Lance gave a withering moan, meeting Keith's gaze as he came. His eyes screwed shut as his back arced, the continued stimulation making him cry out and splatter come over his stomach.

"Good boy," Keith murmured as Lance went slack, a loose smile on his face post-orgasm. He removed his fingers slowly as Lance's body relaxed around him. "You okay?"

"Mhm," Lance reached for him, though his arm did more of a sluggish flail in cooperation, exerted. "C'mere."

Keith went, the shift forward making his cockhead leave wet smears on Lance's thigh. Lance grasped his neck and steered him into a kiss.

"You just made my shower pointless," Lance said after, an exaggerated pout on his face.

"You wouldn't have had to shower if you'd waited."

"I wouldn't have waited if you'd been here on time."

Robbed of a right answer, Keith pinched the inside of Lance's thigh with a sneer, and Lance yelped, kicking him softly.

Lance's response had been a proper one. What was he supposed to do? He'd been tired and horny and Keith wasn't there. Or, technically, he had been. It was being late that had made him undeserving of ass.

Keith climbed off the bed, grabbing for a small cloth on the side-table. He wiped Lance's belly clean in silence before another smart comment was made towards him.

"I think that's for decoration," Lance said, hazy eyes fixated on the bed's baseboard.

"Do you really care?" Keith asked. He came back to the bed, climbed over Lance naturally and leaned over him. He stroked Lance's damp little bangs back before resting their foreheads together. "I know you're still mad at me."

"I'm not," Lance sighed, lifting his head and taking Keith's lips with his own again, languid and sweet and rightfully making Keith's cock stir. "I just missed you. But that's how it is."

In other words, the universe was bigger than them. And he was only trying to accept that.

Keith shook his head, rubbing soothing circles against Lance's hip, fond of how warm his skin was. He stole another kiss, flustered by the way his back was consolingly rubbed in response until leaning close to whisper in Lance's ear. "Let me make it up to you."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Lance murmured, eyes following Keith, who sat back again.

Keith grabbed the bottle of lube from where he'd left it forgotten on the mattress. He watched Lance reach down to give his cock a few experimental tugs. Keith looked down and let himself get distracted by the throb of his own erection, the line of precome that had dripped down the underside. He spread oil over his cock, slicking himself and reaching down to squeeze his heavy balls, barely a relief for the ache of unspent release.

"I'll take care of that for you," Lance said. He lifted his knees, grabbed the back of them to expose himself, and set his legs wider on the bed.

Keith made a rumbling noise of a moan at the gesture. "You're perfect."

Lance merely smiled like he knew.

And he wasn't exaggerating his appreciation at all. If anything, there was definitely a poet in Keith that didn't know how to translate affections verbally as well actions could.

So, clinging to sanity by the tips of his fingers, he lined his cock up with Lance's hole, pushing into the heat of him. It was very tight, even after an orgasm and three fingers, but slick and pliant. Lance moaned long and satisfied as Keith slid steadily inside him. He let go of his knees and instead wrapped them around Keith's middle, who grabbed his hips and pulled him back on his cock with a grunt.

"You feel... holy fuck." Keith gripped his thighs hard, dry-mouthed.

Lance's mouth was slack, cheeks flushed and short bangs askew as he watched, cock twitching and returning to attention. Keith pulled back and then rocked forward, and Lance pushed back against the inward stroke with a cry, thighs shaking. They were that accustomed to each other's bodies, Keith thought pridefully, and could now make a good guess at what Lance enjoyed, too. He liked to be fucked slowly, the warm, thick drag of Keith's cock inside him. And Keith liked to pull the reactions out of him, watch his face pinch tight when he hit the right spot, rut back against him when he grew wanton, urging for more.

He rolled his hips back into him in one fluid circle, knocking his name out of Lance's lips like it was the last word he remembered.

Lance ushered him forward with a weak flutter of a wave, beckoning him for some attention.

"You love this, don't you?" Keith asked, knocking an _ah_ out of Lance.

"Keith."

He loved that, too. Loved how easily overwhelmed Lance was, how responsive he got. Keith didn't say, _'I love you'_ very often. Not because he didn't love Lance, but because the phrase was so heavy. And even if Lance had been a hopeless romantic, even though he knew he'd love to hear those words, there was still something scary to Keith about the enormity of his own feelings. They'd been dating for months now, but Lance was still Lance. Still his flighty little sharpshooter, still shining brighter than a galaxy, still bouncing from place to place like a pinball. Never quite landing. Never quite forgiving. So Keith was careful. He swallowed the words down, afraid to lose himself to it for good.

So instead of using his words, he applied his mouth in other ways. Keith bent over Lance, stroked his ribs, his soft belly, tracing the lithe contour of muscle on his body. He nibbled tiny butterfly-bruises to soft brown flesh, licked and traced a nipple with his tongue, gave it a gentle suck that made Lance's toes curl against the sheets.

He writhed beneath him, crying as Keith persisted and introduced a bit of teeth, still fucking into him with a criminally gentle rock of his hips. Lance rolled his head back as he took it, legs kicking futilely against the mattress, hands like claws on Keith's shoulders as he switched the pace.

"Oh," Lance gasped. His fingers tangled harshly in Keith's hair and he quivered, rocking his hips in little shivering motions back on Keith's dick. He squeezed tight around him, breathy. "Faster, _faster."_

Keith nearly choked at that, momentarily thrown by the request. Lance's face flamed, hazy eyes widening a fraction, like he was about to take back the bold request. But Keith didn't give him time to be embarrassed about it, only obliging and crouching over him, gripping the headboard for leverage to pump his hips faster, grip slippery at the back of Lance's knee.

In that heady, subatomic space between them, Lance was a trembling, lanky, unspooled mess beneath Keith, voice withering down to gasps and tiny, unselfconscious noises. His shaking fingers traveled down the length of Keith's back, the slightest edge of a smile on Lance's face as the bed creaked in protest of their vigorous rhythm.

And then, just as Keith thought he was cresting to his next orgasm, Lance did the unthinkable.

He shoved his hands at Keith's chest, pressed him back until Keith was forced to sit back on his heels and watch. Lance was sitting on his lap, on his cock, hips undulating to an internal rhythm Keith had yet to figure out in the haze his mind was in. Lance took his other hand and set it on his waist, and Keith reclined until he was on his back, fucking dazed as Lance took him as a tool for his own pleasure.

There came a synchronicity then that he was no longer in control of, breath knocking out of him in heaved puffs as Lance set a feverish pace. Lance was more than loud, bouncing up and down on Keith's girth. He rose up on quivering thighs and sank, cheeks red hot as his lips pursed in an _ooh._

"I, I can't breathe," Keith sighed, face pinching in translation of what actually meant _I need to come, fuck._ He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard.

"How'm I doing?" Lance asked, thick-tongued. He raised himself again, sank, and pulled another moan from Keith. He was flushed a deep red all the way down to his chest—one hand shaking against Keith's cheek, the clench of his thighs around Keith's legs weak and fluttery, like that of a rain-beat, struggling butterfly. "Tell me I'm doing good."

Keith absently wondered then how it was that such a pleasure existed, so whole and perfect for him. For a second there, it made feel uncertain. Was he good enough for this, for Lance? So he focused on him again. The rosy gleam of his lip, the feverish look in his eyes as he rutted down. Torn between guilt and longing, he answered.

"So good," Keith whispered. He turned his head, took Lance's hand and kissed the inside of his wrist. It was such a simple thing, but he loved doing it whenever he could. Particularly during sex. It was an easy way to ground Lance, remind him of his affections. "You're so good, Lance. So perfect."

Lance gave a withering sigh to that, lips a small, open-mouthed smile. "Flatterer," he said, eyes lidded until Keith was gripping his waist, hard. "What're you— _ahh."_

Keith rolled his hips, up off the bed, fucking Lance at a faster pace than he'd originally set, which, yes, made his muscles burn for the effort but the price was worth it for the reaction he was earning.

Lance hips did an erratic jerk in tandem to his thrusts, body undulating and clenching tight in a way that had them both gasping as Keith sat up and wrapped an arm around his middle.

"Fuck," Keith rasped, breathless. His face felt on fire, and his chest—rosy with sex flush, burned just as well. He watched a little mesmerized at the way Lance's dick squeezed between their bellies, slit gurgling out a steady release.

Lance grabbed the nape of his neck suddenly, pulling Keith's attention, riding him until Keith was panting, hoarse and desperate.

"Lance—Lance, oh, fuck," Keith's fingers clenched, gripping into the soft flesh of Lance's backside, a whine dying in the back of his throat.

The sound of their coupling was obscene. It echoed through the room like applause, wet and insistent, but with no audience. He nearly lamented that for the way Lance knew how to put on a show.

Before he knew it, Keith was coming hard with a shout, endless it felt—waves rolling through him without mercy, filling Lance as he thrusted shallowly to ride out the aftershock. It was only a little further until Lance was sobbing, twisting his spine and arching over Keith.

"Fuck," Lance cried. There's a unique, keening pitch to his voice that Keith knew well. "Fuck, _fuck, fuck_ —Keith, oh my god, I'm coming, I'm _coming—"_

Keith smiled against his chest and held him through it. Lance was very fond of announcing his orgasms, frequently and at full volume. Sometimes, he swore Lance took pride in his overzealousness.

Keith fell back on his elbows afterwards, coming back to himself at the pace of a brain freeze before looking up at Lance, who looked as tousled as he presumed he was.

Keith grinned, sliding a hand down his stomach, sticky with Lance's come. "Are you...okay?"

A ragged breath. A nod. Lance eased up, pulling himself off, Keith's release trickling down his inner thighs. He eased forward in a slump, laying his sweat-damp face on Keith's chest. "That," he licked his lips, reached up and finger-combed Keith's long bangs back. "Was an experience."

"Yeah." Keith kissed the crown of his head, smiling against his hairline, breathing him in. He curled an arm behind Lance's neck.

"Keith?"

"Yeah."

Lance swallowed, nuzzled into Keith's neck. "I know what jelly feels like."

A beat of silence.

"I believe it," Keith said, staring up at the canopy of the bed, half-disappointed he wasn't hearing the usual love proclamation.

With a wince, Lance got on all fours and crawled back up the bed, avoiding the wet spot on the duvet and collapsing back on the pillows.

Keith stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Crashed about until he found a washcloth, wiped himself down with it, then rinsed it out and wet it again, grabbing a fresh towel on his way out.

Lance remained unmoving on the bed, the rise and fall of his chest still very prominent.

Keith dropped the towel on the mattress next to him and gave his thigh a pat. "You look beat."

Lance smiled, eyes closed. "Just a little."

"Mm. I'm gonna clean you up, okay?"

"Mm'kay."

Keith busied himself with the task easily: to Lance's face and under his arms, then a gentle wipe between his legs, clearing away sweat and spunk before it could dry. He patted him down with the towel when he was finished before tossing both cloths aside, climbing into bed.

Lance welcomed him with a grin, drunkenly cheeky, limbs clinging around Keith like a bony octopus. "You smell good," he kissed Keith's throat, open-mouthed and affectionate.

"I think that's just sweat," Keith laughed quietly, relishing in the intimate press of their naked bodies, a feeling he'd been longing for since arrival.

"Shshsh," Lance held a finger to his lips, the smile on his mouth broad and sloppy. He's quiet a moment. "Stay."

"I am."

"Don't leave."

"I won't," Keith whispered. He petted Lance's hair, coaxing him to sleep and pulling the covers over their bodies.

After a while, Lance's breath petered itself out into little snores, ever the inelegant sleeper. Keith closed his eyes, held his breath. He planted a kiss on top of Lance's messy head and, at last, his mind went quiet.

 

***

 

It was early, a little after dusk.

Keith blinked, his eyes adjusting to the buttery morning sun bathing the room in a hazy glow. Slowly, he took it in: the feeling of Lance's dozing head on his bicep, the gentle gust of his breath, lashes fluttering. Keith traced his face lightly with a thumb, pressed a forefinger to the cute upturn of his nose. His heart warmed, just to simply be in such an intimate presence.

Lance stirred, humming softly and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He gave a slow, catlike stretch and mumbled. "Mernin', Kee."

"Morning," Keith greeted, amused.

After a moment, Lance's eyes cracked open with realization, landing on him. "You stayed."

"Of course I did."

"You're saying that like it's expected," Lance's mouth sported a little frown. He sat up slowly, sheets rumpling around his hips.

Keith mirrored the look, stricken and hooking his free arm around Lance's waist, pulling him flush easily. The back of his mind recalled days when he'd been the one getting used to Lance's propensity for touch. But now, as Lance's stayed looking at him curiously, he figured the tables had turned.

Keith pushed himself up to sit and wrinkled a brow. "I always want to be with you."

"I just wish you were here more," Lance turned his gaze away, looking thoughtful. His cheeks were suffusing in pink. "And I know we haven't been together long, but...you're the best thing I've ever had, okay?"

Keith nodded, unsure of what to say.

He was so bad at this. It wasn't a crushing realization. All the daydreams he'd entertained, all the fantasies that soaked his consciousness to be the perfect boyfriend, would all be worthless in the face of the real thing.

"I..." Lance looked up for guidance. His voice was feeble and apologetic, though he had nothing to be sorry for.

"Lance... It's just me," Keith said.

_'_ _I love you_ _'_ was just too easy of a confession. The words blistered on Keith's tongue, fighting for release, but he bit it back.

"It's never just you, Keith. It _is_ you. The way you look at me when you think I'm not looking, or the way you pretend to smile at my bad jokes, or the way you make me feel..." Lance paused, eyes flickering. "Special."

Keith's heart raced to hear every word. It certainly wasn't the kind of anger he'd been expecting, or like any discussion they'd had. He didn't quite understand how Lance could feel special alone.

"I mean, like," Lance fluttered a hand with cheeks red as apples. "You even wore that stupid tie I got you! Just because I said I wanted to color coordinate or," he clapped a palm to his mouth, something between a sob and laugh coming out. "When I wanted an oyster pail of those purple noodles from Idos. And you flew five planets away just to get them for me."

Keith's characteristically hard features softened at the response when, suddenly, Lance popped off.

"Say something, Keith! You can't make me talk for you all the time! Jeez! I know I said I was cool with you being quiet and broody, but every time I imagine what you'd say— I keep hoping you'll say you love me, but the words never come out, and I just can't take it anymore!"

Keith smiled. How couldn't he?

"Lance..."

"Keith?"

"I've always loved you."

Lance's angry little huffs feathered out, a residual pout on his face as he planted his hands on his hips and angrily said, "Well, I love you, too!"

This time, Keith met him halfway, busied his mouth with Lance's soft lips. His own felt like sandpaper in comparison, but Lance didn't seem to mind, only kissed him back with certainty, without restraint. Lance was energetic, eager like that. Kissing quick then slow, breaking the seal of their lips only to return again like he was starving for it.

Gravity and the fumble of Lance's hands pulled them back to the mattress until they were rolling, landing with Lance's legs astride Keith's body. Lance's face was an angelic gold in the luminance of sunrise.

"What are you thinking about?" Lance asked, smacking a kiss to his head.

"Just."

"Juuust?"

Keith knew what it was after all. It was in the way Lance smiled and carried himself, as if he were a being greater than Voltron. It was in the way he grinned as he piloted, Blue and Red crushing robeasts as if they were made of papers. It was in the way he rambled as he spoke, weaving webs of wonderment that left Keith in a daze every time those sweet lips parted.

He ran his thumb over the corner of Lance's lip and shook his head with a quiet sigh. "You're everything that's right with the universe, Lance."

Lance's smile was something else then, gaze twinkling. He kissed the pad of his thumb. "Have you always been this gooey and lovey?"

"No," Keith grinned. "You're completely responsible."

And then Lance was kissing him again—his throat, his jaw, his ear.

"You know you can tell me anything," Keith said. "Ask me anything."

Lance raised himself up on his elbows, eyes looking like a TV set on static before he seemed to show an earnest approach. "Okay."

"Let's hear it."

Lance inhaled. "Have you ever pulled down your shorts in front of the mirror and jumped up and down, just to see you dick bounce?"

Keith closed his eyes. "Why are you like this."

"No, no, no!" Lance sat back on him, waving. "I'm asking for reference! I wanna know what I look like riding you."

There's a deviant edge to Keith's smile. "How about I record you next time?"

"Oh, no," Lance wrinkled his nose. "My expectations rarely meet reality. With my luck, it'll just be my scrawny thighs and a lot of floundering."

Keith tried to think of that, too, genuinely fond of the idea until he realized he'd have to see his pale ass thrusting on camera. He clucked his tongue, discarding the fantasy when Lance actually giggled at him like he heard the internal commentary and fell over.

There were better ways to pass the time.

Keith sat up again, giving Lance's ass a playful smack. "Put your clothes back on."

Lance made a grumbling noise, pink-cheeked. "What for?"

"You'll see."

Lance obliged, albeit with a skeptical look, shimmying back into his underwear as Keith did the same. They redressed into their suits from last night in a companionable silence before leaving the room.

And to think he nearly missed Lance looking this good. Keith's smile was nothing sort of cheeky, reveling in the way they could shamelessly check each other out as they left down the hall. Eventually, they came back to the ballroom, empty but still filled with the prior night's decor. A few crew members onstage, the Bright Bon, were packing up there instruments.

"Wait!" Keith threw out a hand as he approached the stage. "Can I make a request?"

One alien, a vibrant looking thing, exchanged a glance with his fellow bandmate before looking at Keith with a smile. "I think we may have a song left in us."

With the flare of a small horn, the band assembled itself on the edge of the stage, launched itself into a jazzy number.

Lance stood by in the meantime, holding his arms and looking doe-eyed when Keith walked back to him and extended a hand.

"Dance with me," Keith smiled, taking Lance's hand in his.

Lance, with a flushed, laughing face, joined Keith in a waltz. He let his head fall on Keith's shoulder as they twirled softly in place. "You're not trying to charm me, are you, Mullet?"

"No," Keith answered. "I'm being a proper boyfriend."

Lance yawned against his neck, sighing blissfully. "I wish you knew that you were a proper boyfriend."

"I wish you'd known how much I loved you already," Keith countered. But Lance's smile, the weight of his head on Keith's shoulder as they danced in the open space of the palace, was almost too surreal.

Lance was here. With him. His lover. His.

"I wish we'd never end," Keith said finally. There it was. A couple of seconds ticked by before Keith turned to look at Lance's eyes—afraid he'd misspoken—to find them lidded.

Lance's face was peaceful, his breath slow and rhythmic on Keith's neck. Like he'd finally gotten the answer he'd been waiting for.

Keith smiled and wrapped him tighter.

Who knew it would take Keith this long to realize being out there with his feelings wasn't a vulnerability? On the contrary, he'd never felt braver, stronger.

He twirled Lance around and around under the rising sun and thought, more optimistic than before, about the future.

**Author's Note:**

> because the bottom lance tag was going through a severe drought, and i couldn't stand for that injustice. what can i say? it really got away from me. also, i listened to a lot of [sza](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DcRi3j8sjtU) while writing this. happy valentine's day! ♥️
> 
> PLEASE, feel free to comment and leaves kudos!
> 
> [@peachgrdn](https://mobile.twitter.com/peachgrdn) / tumblr : [peachgrdn](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/peachgrdn)


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